Just as his thoughts continued to churn, he suddenly felt a hand drive sharply into his ribs, precise and deliberate, the knuckles aligned with calculated force, and a resounding crack followed. Blackwood seized Jurgen's free hand, tightening his grip while their other hands remained interlocked, then followed up with a barrage of knees driven into Jurgen's chest.
No matter how much Jurgen believed he could endure it, repeated, concentrated strikes to the chest were not something even he could withstand — especially now that what he had feared had come to pass, both of his hands effectively restrained with no means to defend himself.
In a muffled exertion, he clamped down harder on Blackwood's chest, biting with force before tearing flesh away. A sharp cry escaped Blackwood, but instead of recoiling, he dragged Jurgen closer, now fully controlling both of his arms. Jurgen instinctively raised his knee to block, anticipating another knee strike given their locked position, but Blackwood proved far from predictable, driving a brutal headbutt forward instead. The impact split Jurgen's lip and further bloodied his nose.
Blackwood released the grip he had tightened around Jurgen's wrist, choosing the hand he had direct control over rather than the one still interlocked. The moment he freed it, he drove it straight into Jurgen's face. Before Jurgen could make use of the now-liberated arm, Blackwood's hand shot forward again, clamping tightly around his neck as his fingers dug in with vicious intent. The pain flared immediately, sharp and invasive, as though a wild animal were tearing into his throat.
Jurgen's free hand moved instinctively, grabbing at Blackwood's arm in an attempt to pry it loose, but it was futile. Blackwood's grip held firm, unyielding. Jurgen extended his arm further, reaching for Blackwood's face, clawing wildly in search of a vulnerable point — his eyes, anything that would force him to release.
His vision was strained, distorted by the pressure against his neck, and his hand ultimately landed on Blackwood's mouth instead. Without hesitation, Blackwood bit down hard in retaliation, a savage answer to the earlier wound inflicted on him.
A muffled groan escaped Jurgen, his voice choked as if something were lodged between his teeth. As they struggled, locked in a brutal and almost animalistic exchange, something shifted unexpectedly. Jurgen's footing gave way — his leg slipped as though he had stepped onto something slick, an impossibility on solid concrete. His balance faltered, his body lurching as he fought to stay upright.
Blackwood did not hesitate. Seizing the opening, he drove a vicious knee into Jurgen's lowered jaw, snapping his head upward before forcefully wrenching his hand free from their interlocked grip. In the same motion, he followed with a powerful kick that sent Jurgen backward.
Jurgen skidded across the ground before forcing himself back into motion, regaining his stance despite the disorientation. Blood smeared across his mouth and nose — though not all of it was his. He wiped at it with the back of his hand, only spreading it further across his face before spitting out the torn piece of Blackwood's flesh.
The arena fell into stunned silence. The onlookers were too shocked to react, too unsettled to even speak. Even Viktor's expression shifted, taken aback by the sheer brutality of Jurgen's fighting style, while above, both emperors watched with visible surprise. This was not what they had expected from someone who carried himself with such cold detachment. The realization that Jurgen did not fight fairly — did not fight cleanly was undeniable.
"You wicked animal," Blackwood growled, the pain evident in his voice, though his disgust outweighed it. He wasn't entirely surprised, Jurgen had already shown he would fight like a savage, but that didn't make it any less unsettling. Still, there was nothing in the rules that forbade it.
"What an irony. You're quite the animal yourself," Jurgen replied, a faint, pained smile forming on his lips. He was no less affected by the exchange. His fingers trembled from the bite Blackwood had inflicted, the damage severe enough that bone was faintly visible beneath torn flesh.
They stared at each other in silence for a moment, tension thick in the air. The entire arena watched in anticipation, the intensity almost suffocating. Even Bubbles couldn't hold it in, he turned slightly and gagged, the image of Jurgen biting into human flesh far beyond anything he had expected to witness.
Then, without warning, Blackwood's lips curled into a short, tight smile before he burst forward.
Jurgen moved in response, pushing himself to match him. He attempted to form a fist with his injured hand, but the damage made it impossible, his fingers refusing to obey. Still, he charged ahead, his posture low — unnaturally low, far below the stance of a normal sprint as he closed the distance.
Just before they collided, Jurgen slipped again. Losing footing at that speed placed him at an immediate disadvantage, and Blackwood capitalized without hesitation. His fist connected cleanly with Jurgen's temple, the impact carrying such force that it sent a visible ripple through the air. The blow launched Jurgen violently to the side, dust rising as his body skidded across the arena floor.
Jurgen's chest heaved as he forced himself to stay conscious, staggering before collapsing onto the ground. His vision flickered erratically as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings, teetering dangerously on the edge of losing consciousness.
Even though he struggled to remain conscious, Blackwood did not charge as recklessly as he had earlier in the match. He himself was already fatigued, struggling to maintain his stance. He knew Jiro was up to something, but not seeing him at all made him hesitant to attack the savage animal before him.
Kimura, at the far end, simply watched as though unmoved by what he was witnessing, but deep down his thoughts were centered around Jurgen.
"He fights too wildly for a child… what unnecessary gore," he muttered under his breath.
Jurgen, on the other hand, raised his hand to his temple. It hovered shakily, as though touching it would make it worse. His head rang continuously, his gaze flickering as he desperately tried to lock onto Blackwood's presence. Blackwood used the opportunity to catch his breath and regain his composure slightly. The air brushing against the exposed bite on his chest stung painfully, but it was nothing compared to what he was dealing with now.
The idea that Jiro was still nowhere to be seen made him hesitant to attack Jurgen. An unpredictable opponent is the worst kind of person to go up against, and the thought of losing another body part sent a chill through him.
Ultimately, he spoke, forcing himself to appear composed.
"What's the matter? Giving up?"